


push my fingers through your mouth

by folkinround



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fic Exchange, Implied/Referenced Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkinround/pseuds/folkinround
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim visits his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	push my fingers through your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Mortastic Fic Exchange on tumblr. My recipient is lyrics-are-poetry. Her prompt was "something with Jim being controlling/possessive/abusive but in a psychological way rather than a violent way—and no smut."  
> I struggled a bit with it, and I’m sorry in advance if it sucks, but I do hope it’s at least a little close to what you wanted. Title is from Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Airplane Over the Sea.

The kettle whistled and Richard pulled it out of the stove, shoved the tea leaves inside pot and sighed as he filled it with hot water. Sweat was beginning to pool on the back of his neck. He was running late; Jim would be there anytime now, always so punctual.

 

He put a few biscuits on the tray and arranged the teacups so Jim’s handle would be pointing left. The doorbell rang at the exact time and Richard ran to the living-room with the tea tray, practically threw it on the coffee table before running hastily to the door to open for his brother.

 

And he looked as good as ever, Richard thought.

 

“Good evening, Richie,” he said politely, stepping into his brother’s apartment with a look of mild curiosity.

 

Richard felt himself beginning to sweat again. Jim’s eyes ran, brief and uninterested, through the living-room and he was glad he’d tidied at least that room a bit before his twin arrived. He was also glad Jim didn’t see the state of the kitchen, or his bedroom.

 

The oldest twin didn’t comment on anything, though.

 

“You haven’t come see me in a while,” he pouted. “I’m disappointed in you.”

 

Richard stared at his hands. “You don’t like it when I come uninvited,” he said with a slight hint of resentment in his tone. His eyes didn’t meet Jim’s, though, lest he find it a gesture of defiance, and he found himself adding an explanation. “I’ve been busy with work.”

 

“You’ve been far too _busy with work_ ,” Jim said, and Richard didn’t even have to look to notice the threat in his manner. “I thought I was going to have to _fix_ it my way.”

 

Panic started to rise inside Richard. “No, Jim,” he said quickly and immediately regretted it. Jim’s eyebrow perked up.

 

“What _have_ you been doing, little brother?” he asked. “Or _who_ have you been doing?” he added. Richard’s face burned in shame.

 

“Please, Jim,” he said weakly. Christ, wasn’t it an awful start? Jim had only been in for a minute and Richard already felt like a disaster.

 

“Please _what_?” Jim asked and Richard couldn’t ignore the slight harshness of his tone. “You know _full well_ how I feel about that, Richard.”

 

He did. He remembered all the (few) times Jim had found out Richard had been seeing someone and how it had ended. The youngest twin started down at his hands still, fingers twisting nervously.

 

He wasn’t even _seeing_ her yet. They’d just met.

 

But of course he wasn’t going to tell Jim that, knew it wasn’t going to do any of them any good. He shook his head lightly, pushing the thoughts away instead.

 

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me,” he said almost shyly.

 

Jim replied with a dismissive shrug. “Well,” he continued, pacing around the short distance between the couch and the window. Richard watched, eyes glued to his brother, taking in the way he moved, proud and  comfortable, tall and assuring. The youngest Moriarty took comfort in his twin’s posture, the way he acted like there wasn’t a thing in the world more important than him, like there wasn’t a thing that he couldn’t do.

 

It was a while before Jim spoke again.

 

“I need you to do something for me,” he said simply, snapping back into the conversation like he’d only been quiet for a few seconds, and it did sound more like an order than anything else, like it always did. He finally stopped pacing and turned around to face Richard. “It’s a big, _important_ job.”

 

Richard watched Jim’s thin lips form the words, then his tongue sticking out to lick them. Something heated up inside his stomach and he turned his face away quickly.

 

Jim kept his eyes on him, though, interested like a child who’d just rediscovered one of his old favourite toys. His lips curled into a tiny smile at Richard’s reaction and when he didn’t say anything, Jim’s expression changed into one of disappointment and he pouted again. “Well,” he said, his tone bitter. “Aren’t you _excited_ to know about it?”

 

“Yes,” Richard replied quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Please, go on.”

 

“Oh, for a minute there I thought you weren’t,” Jim said with resented irony this time. His eyelids fluttered shut and he made a dramatic gesture, as if trying (and purposefully _failing_ ) to look uninterested. It was gone soon, though. “You get to _impersonate_ me in front of a _client_ ,” he said. “Isn’t that _exciting?_ ”

 

Richard felt a bit of panic beginning to rise inside him again, not as strong as before, but undeniably there. He kept his eyes elsewhere, noticing the untouched tea in front of them, the pile of dishes in the sink that he still had to do, the sun setting outside the window.

 

Of all the times Jim had asked something of him, it had been something he would be unable to _ever_ get back. Something big. Traumatazing, even. It probably showed, for Jim’s lip curled into a pout again.

 

“Come on, Richie,” he cooed. “You get to play me, isn’t that _exciting_?” he teased, his tone sing-song. He gave his twin a look from head to toe, his eyes predatory and hungry, lingering on the curve of his neck, his protuding collarbones, his crotch. Richard’s face burned in shame again and he forced his eyes away from his brother, running his hands through his hair a few times.

 

“I can’t do that, Jim,” he said after a moment of silence, his voice weak and hesitant. He looked up again with equally hesitant eyes, looking almost vainly hopeful that Jim would understand and accept it this time. “I just can’t. I’m not good enough,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his tone sad.

 

Jim shook his head, tutting softly. He approached his brother slowly, and Richard felt his stomach flipping as he watched. He stopped in front of him, eyes piercing and so, so dark. Richard shivered.

 

Then his look turned to one of disinterest and he shrugged, taking the last few steps to end the distance between the two of them.

 

“ _Everyone_ is going to leave you in the end, Richie,” he said, his voice a hot whisper on his twin’s ear. “I’m all you’ve got, so you _know_ you’ve got to be _nice_ to me, don’t you?” He paused for half a second, his lips teasing at the skin behind Richard’s ear, making the whole extention of his skin prickle. “All it’ll take is a bit of hard work,” he breathed.

 

Richard swallowed dryly, noticing Jim’s eyes watching as he worked his throat. “You can do that, can’t you?” he insisted. “For me.”

 

Richard closed his eyes for a brief moment, wishing he could just stretch it out infinitely, but reopened them and turned his head slowly. He stared back at his brother’s dark, threatening eyes for the briefest of moments and then looked down again, looking defeated as he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I can do it for you, Jim.”


End file.
